


Not Even Jackson in a Tutu

by Pi (Rhea)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Danger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Pi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because everything, inherently, happens in the Beacon Hills High boys locker room. i.e. places Stiles and Derek should not be having sex but are anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Even Jackson in a Tutu

Stiles absolutely does not mind being bodily slammed up against the slick tiled wall of the locker room. Seriously Derek can keep doing that as much as he pleases if he does not stop kissing Stiles ever. Of course, if his head hits the wall again that hard, it might do serious damage to his brain, but Stiles isn't really thinking with his brain right now. Actually he's not thinking at all, which is a disturbing thought. 

Stiles wrenches his mouth away, because he's an idiot.  
"You do realize, we're in the boys locker room. Which, I'm all for continuing this, and post-haste all that, but it's not the most," Stiles groans as Derek takes his babble for an excuse to start sucking on his neck instead. Stiles is going to have a monster hickey. One both large, and from a werewolf, so monster in many senses. "private of places, and while I'm glad there's not a dead body in here, I can't really steal keys from a janitor to lock the door so, oh god, you know what I'm not sure I care." Stiles gasps when Derek lines up their hips, crowding Stiles back against the wall, his breath harsh in Stiles' ear. "This is me, not caring," Stiles groans, grabbing for Derek's hips to pull him closer. "Seriously, Jackson could come in right now, with the entirety of the lacross team, maybe even coach Finstock and I would not care. I would not care if they were wearing pink tutus and pretending to be elephants." Stiles should probably stop talking. Derek's shoulders are shaking like he's trying not to laugh, which might be offensive except he's not stopping. In fact, his hands are currently tearing the button of Stiles' pants, which is really unnecessary and will probably be problematic later but, Jackson in a tutu, Stiles couldn't care.  
"Yeah," Stiles breathes encouragement, arching his hips to help Derek get his pants off and kicking the offending piece of clothing to the far wall. It's probably going to get wet, where it lands against the shower drain, and then Stiles will have to figure out how to walk around school with soaked pants and not look like he was ravished the boys locker room. Or, given the fact that Derek has latched onto the other side of his neck with equal fervor, maybe Stiles should just give it up for the lost cause it is because there is no way he's going to get home with this unnoticed. 

Stiles arches his neck against Derek's teeth. The sound that escapes his lips may or may not be defined as a mewl. Derek's laughing again, but even his laughter is sexy. Stiles does not care it's at his expense because Derek leans back to snap his shirt off over his head, and really his abs are gods gift to mankind. Or maybe just to Stiles. Stiles is really, very happy to represent all of mankind. He says so. Derek's quirked eyebrows speak volumes, but if Derek hasn't learned to follow Stiles' mental leaps yet, well, he's a sucky boyfriend. Stiles uses the stupid eyebrow as an excuse to tweak one of Derek's nipples. It's just, and Stiles still can't get over the fact that Derek squeaks. It's really not a manly sound at all. It's more like a cat than a wolf. Stiles does not repeat that thought, because he's experienced the accompanying glare before, and while it is by no means a mood killer, there is skin right there for Stiles to get his lips on, and Stiles sees no reason to question good fortune. Besides, Derek's very forgiving when Stiles' mouth is attempting to make nice. 

Stiles raises his own arms for Derek to rip his shirt off, happy that this one at least is coming off not in shreds. The downsides to dating a werewolf. Not that they aren't hot, Derek literally tearing the clothes of Stiles' body to check for injuries has lead to really hot "thank god we're alive sex" in the past. However, Stiles is still, somewhat aware that it is two in the afternoon on a Tuesday. A school day, and Stiles is definitely going to miss his next class because the make out session during his free period is looking like it's much more likely to be sex. Lacross practice doesn't start until four, and there aren't P.E. classes in the afternoon on Tuesdays. At least, Stiles prays there aren't. This would be something he really doesn't want to explain to his dad. Yes sir, I was making out with my boyfriend, you know, Derek Hale, who yes, you may have tried to arrest, but he's a really great guy, which you know because you had him over for dinner last week and he was totally charming and I think we're finally getting somewhere, except for that whole talk about age differences, and how I totally heard that talk you gave Derek about not pressuring me into sex, so really I didn't want you to find out that, well, that bird already flown by the principal calling you out from work about your son's public indecency. Nope, can't do anything by halves, it has to be fireworks in this family. Stiles is not having that conversation. 

It doesnt' stop him from hitching a leg up over Derek's hip. Derek sort of grunts, shifting forwards, knocking Stiles feet out from under him. It's totally fine because Derek can more than take his weight, hefting him up to slam his shoulders against the showerroom wall. One of Derek's hands cups the back of Stiles' skull just before his head rebounds off the wall. At least Derek cares about the potential brain damage. Stiles' brain is one of the things he's really got going for him. Derek's a great boyfriend and gets that. He also gets that Stiles grinding down against his still existing pants, while fully naked, is something that perhaps needs to happen less. Derek somehow manages to shimmy his pants down, while still supporting Stiles against the wall. Stiles takes the moment to appreciate the flex of his muscles.  
"You can hear, like if someone was going to walk in, right?" Stiles asks breathless, as Derek steps out of his jeans, "Not that we'd really have time to get our clothes back on, but we could, I dunno, act casual. It's a shower after all. Not that there's a great excuse for showering in the middle of the school day, but I am on the First Line of the Lacross team. So, that makes me a big enough deal to be an idiot jock and work out in the middle of the day. You'd have no excuse. Maybe you were spotting me or something?" Stiles mutters as Derek kisses across his cheek, then his words are lost against Derek's mouth. It's probably a good thing they did this once already today, or the whole minimal preparation could be more of a problem. As it is, Derek's fingers slide in with minimal discomfort. Stiles takes a moment to be sorry he's borrowed Scotts conditioner, but there weren't many other options, Stiles doesn't have enough hair for the kind of grooming products Scott keeps stacks of in his locker. Stiles' breath catches in his lungs, when Derek removes his fingers and positions himself against Stiles, hitches in his throat as he starts that first slide in. 

"God," Stiles mutters, fingers clawing at Derek's back. Derek starts moving in earnest, his hips first rocking forward, then with the encouraging arch of Stiles' back, snapping forward. Stiles' breath huffs out of his body. Surprisingly Stiles isn't actually all that loud when it comes to actual sex, but he can tell from the heat of Derek's eyes on his face, the way he leans in, that the softest groan, or hiss of Stiles' breath as he clenches his teeth against the cresting waves of pleasure rocking through his body shout louder than any words he might ever say could. And in this situation, Stiles is glad that his reaction to a spectacular orgasm is not to yell his ecstasy to the world but rather what he would consider a rather unattractive, overly nasal whimper. Like usual, Derek seems not to mind this at all, inhaling sharply behind Stiles' ear at the sound. His own, answering growl rumbles through Stiles' body from where there chests touch all the way down to his toes, more felt than heard. His hips snap a few last, powerful times, rocking Stiles' spine uncomfortably back against the wall. Then he steps back, drawing slowly out of Stiles. Stiles rocks forwards, collapsing into Derek's arms and doing his mightiest impersonation of a wet noodle. Derek nuzzles his hair. The class bell rings. Shit. Stiles stumbles upright and shoots Derek a glare.

"You realize this was just supposed to be a make out session. How am I going to sit nicely through the rest of my classes." Stiles huffs. Derek merely grins and holds out Stiles, unsurprisingly damp pants. At least the waters mostly just soaked in around the ankles and lower calf. Stiles still isn't used to that grin. It gives him ideas. Like cookie-baking, pickett-fence, and love-letter writing ideas. Stiles struggles the pants on. "You make my life difficult." Stiles says with an accusatory finger.  
"You love it." Derek shrugs. He's a horrible sourwolf, even if he's smiling, even if he's right, "You're going to be late for class." Derek proffers Stiles' shirt, but instead of relenquishing it when Stilles grabs at it, he uses it to reel Stiles into another kiss. This one only lasts a fraction of the time of the first. Just enough to make Stiles breathless infact. And late for class.  
"I hate you." Stiles grumps, stuffing the shirt over his head.  
"I'll meet you in the parkinglot after school."  
"If you're lurking in the back of my Jeep..." Stiles threatens but Derek just laughs at him again. His back seat will continue to smell like dog for another week. Stiles huffs a sigh and runs for class, just as the late bell rings.


End file.
